


Do You Remember?

by Eavenne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 13:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eavenne/pseuds/Eavenne
Summary: Everyone's treating her strangely. "Do you remember what happened to you?" they ask.But Liechtenstein doesn't have an answer.





	Do You Remember?

Everyone’s staring at her. 

Liechtenstein doesn’t know why. Perhaps there’s something on her face, she thinks. She gazes at her reflection in a tinted window, runs a hand from the back of her head to the nape of her neck and down one of her long braids, but sees and feels nothing out of the ordinary.

So she delicately tucks her confusion away and walks on.

\---

Her boss looks at her with narrowed eyes and asks where she’s been.

Yes, Liechtenstein realises, there is something odd. Somehow, there’s a gap in her memory – a dam in the stream of her consciousness, an empty pit filled to the brim with silent darkness. 

Her recollections are the lives of her people and the history of her country, so she supposes it is unusual that the last twenty days seem to have flashed by without a trace. 

“Do you remember what happened to you?” her boss asks, and Liechtenstein shakes her head and waits for a reply – instead she is shown into a meeting where she sits blankly, struggling to guess at current events. 

And just like that her workday ends, and Liechtenstein makes her dazed way home.

\---

He’s not there. 

Liechtenstein waits for an hour and supposes he’ll be back late, so she sits down and eats the pasta that she cooked. Her gaze flutters around the room; she takes in every detail unquestioningly, and thinks about her memory loss and what has to be done at work the next day. 

Though it is only polite to wait for Switzerland to return, there are many things that Liechtenstein has to do – so she keeps the remaining pasta in the refrigerator and leaves a note for him on the kitchen table. 

Then she does the dishes, showers, changes, switches off the lights and lies down on her bed with her phone to read up on the latest happenings in her country.

\--

The door is thrown open with such force that she fears it will fly off its hinges.

Framed in the doorway is Switzerland, his hands trembling even as his silhouette sways to the side and he leans against the door. It is too dark to guess at his expression, but Liechtenstein thinks he’s staring at her, wide-eyed; slowly, hesitantly, he takes one shaky step forward, but doesn’t say a word.

“I left pasta in the fridge,” she says, sliding off the bed and standing up. It’s a little embarrassing, she thinks, to be in her nightdress while the other nation is dressed for work, but there’s nothing she can do about it. 

“You’re back.” His voice is strained, his words little more than a gasp, and Liechtenstein wonders what he means.

“Yes,” she replies, but suddenly Switzerland’s breath hitches and his eyes are too bright, so Liechtenstein quickly looks away. “Is there something wrong, Mr Switzerland?” she asks softly. Though they don’t personally know each other very well, she has close bilateral ties with Switzerland, and Liechtenstein is fully willing to help him as best as she can.

“I…Erika, I – ” he starts, running an unsteady hand over his face, but suddenly he pauses and Liechtenstein hears him take a sharp breath. 

“…What did you call me?”

\---

The air is still and heavy at breakfast.

Silence fills the room in a loud, conspicuous manner. Somehow Switzerland is staring squarely at everything that isn’t Liechtenstein, and so she focuses on her plate and tries not to make a sound.

Out of nowhere she hears the scrape of his chair as he stands up and turns away. “I’ll be late tonight, so don’t wait for me.” He hovers there for a while, as if he’s undecided about what to do, before he takes his cup and plate to the sink and looks at the dishwashing liquid.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, “I can do the dishes once I’m done eating.” Liechtenstein wonders when Switzerland went to bed, and if he got any sleep at all – she knows he was still awake at three, since the lights were still on outside when she woke up for a few minutes – and he was rather upset, so that might have kept him up.

And so Liechtenstein opens her mouth to ask if he’s alright, but doesn’t know how to begin, and decides against it.

“It’s fine,” Switzerland replies, and starts washing up. 

Neither of them makes any attempt at further conversation, but Switzerland’s voice echoes in her head. Something he said the night before has shackled her thoughts and won’t leave her mind.

“Do you remember what happened to you?” 

\---

The next few days fly by. 

On Friday, Liechtenstein stays up to wait for Switzerland’s return, only to fall asleep on the sofa at two in the morning. The next day, she wakes to find a soft blanket covering her body and a sandwich on the table before her. 

She runs upstairs to thank him, but Switzerland just nods stiffly and takes a long sip of his coffee, avoiding her gaze.

It’s too much, and Liechtenstein can’t stay silent any longer. “What’s wrong?” she asks, moving closer to him. “Please tell me.”

Tension freezes his shoulders, but Switzerland finally looks at her. There’s something off about his expression – his eyes are a little too large, his breaths are a little too shallow – and his voice is oddly thick when he says, “I’m sorry about that night. I…had been drinking.”

The effort of maintaining eye contact with Liechtenstein seems to quickly wear him out, and Switzerland turns away once more. “Just forget about it.” 

She isn’t about to let it go. “I want to know what you meant.” 

“…What?” His fingers tighten around the handle of his mug.

“You asked me if I remembered what had happened to me,” Liechtenstein says, watching Switzerland intently. “Please,” she repeats, “I want to know.”

Then she sees Switzerland cast his gaze desperately around the room, and watches as he blinks rapidly and struggles to calm his quick breathing, as his hand seeks out the gun on his table and closes over it in what she can only guess is an attempt to derive comfort from the killing weapon. 

“Mr Switzerland – ” she starts, but he shakes his head and lets it fall into his open palm. “Don’t call me that,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

She knows she’s being too forward, but she reaches out and gently coaxes his other hand from the gun. “What would you like me to call you?” 

He laughs – it’s a sharp, brittle sound – and moves his hand away. 

“Just Basch.”

\---

Though she yearns to press him further, Liechtenstein doesn’t have the heart to demand answers from Switzerland.

What she does find out is that he’s been getting an average of three hours of sleep over the past few days, which does not surprise her. She scolds that he shouldn’t just be relying on coffee to power himself through the day, and wonders why the words come so easily to her lips.

After all, she doesn’t know him well at all.

\---

She thinks there’s something important that she’s forgotten.

It isn’t right – the way her co-workers throw each other significant looks when she passes by, the way her boss again asks, “Are you sure you don’t remember what happened?”, the way Switzerland can’t meet her eyes and comes home late every night. 

Liechtenstein thinks he’s avoiding her. 

But when she tries to remember what he was like before everything changed, she sees nothing – no images flicker before her eyes, no fragments of sentences drift across her mind. 

It’s almost as if she’s been doing nothing but work for her entire life.

\---

There’s a double standard at play.

When Switzerland disappears somewhere or returns home at dawn only to leave hours later, any concerns Liechtenstein has about his well-being are waved away and dismissed with a firm “I’m fine.”

Yet when she once goes out early on a Saturday morning to buy vegetables while he’s asleep, Switzerland calls her within thirty minutes.

“Where are you?” he yells, and his voice is so loud and piercing that Liechtenstein has to flinch away.

“At the grocery store near your place,” she says, staring blankly at the cucumber she’s holding. “Did something happen?”

For a few moments the only thing she hears is Switzerland’s quick, unsteady breathing, before it cracks into a muffled sob and Liechtenstein knows there’s something wrong.

“Basch?” she asks, “Are you alright? Should I come back?”

His response is immediate. “No…I – ” Switzerland starts, but then his voice dissolves into more shuddering gasps and he barely manages to say “I’m fine,” before he hangs up.

When she rushes home and looks for him, Switzerland tries to hide his red eyes and apologises for shouting at her. “I was tired,” he says, and turns back to his computer, refusing to elaborate.

He doesn’t explain himself, and Liechtenstein knows better than to ask.

\--

That night, she dreams of dying.

She’s alone, aching, afraid – the rain darkens her dress as the sky, drained of its colour, cries endlessly on – and the world turns grey and she closes her eyes and waits to pass away.

She’d have liked to be a country for a little longer, she thinks, but her legs won’t move anymore and there’s nothing she can do.

Then she hears her brother call out to her and she opens her eyes, but the familiar scene ripples and swirls and suddenly there’s something huge hurtling towards her and she screams and reaches for her brother’s hand but it’s too late and –

She wakes.

\---

That day, she decides to spend some time by herself.

At home, Switzerland’s uneasy silence hangs persistently and uncomfortably in the air, so Liechtenstein informs him that she’s going to take a trip to her countryside. Something nags at her; she looks at his normally piercing eyes, now dulled by fatigue, and thinks it would do him some good to get out of the house.

But he doesn’t want to accompany her, so Liechtenstein gathers her things and leaves.

\---

When she’s found a nice spot to sit down and gaze at her beautiful city, Liechtenstein goes over what she knows.

There are definitely gaps in her memory – the most obvious one being the twenty days that seem to have completely passed her over – but if Switzerland’s confusion at being addressed formally is any indication, it’s more than just that. 

Yet she has nothing to go on, for she has the habit of deleting her message history and doesn’t have much on social media, and no one who asks, “Do you remember what happened to you?” will tell her what she’s supposed to remember, and Switzerland is evasive and Liechtenstein doesn’t know who her brother is. 

She can’t recall his face or his name, but the thought of him makes her feel a little better.

If only she can speak to him. 

Then perhaps everything will come to light.

\---

She promised to be home in two hours, so she starts packing to go.

But suddenly there’s someone crying her name and she turns, and then Liechtenstein is engulfed by a bright green dress and tumbling caramel hair and a woman’s body that rocks with unrestrained emotion and binds her in a tight hug.

“You’re back,” the lady cries, “Oh, you’re back, you’re back, I can’t believe it, oh thank God – ” and turns her head to plant a tearful kiss on Liechtenstein’s cheek.

When she recognises Hungary, Liechtenstein relaxes in the fierce embrace. Though most of their interactions were confined to meetings, she thinks she knows her somewhat well – Hungary was always nice to her, and brought her food – so she pats the other nation on the back and says, “I’m here.”

As Hungary buries her head in Liechtenstein’s shoulder and cries on, Liechtenstein looks up and sees Austria slowly approach, his eyes wide.

He stares at her, and sucks in a breath. “You’re back,” he says.

“I suppose so.”

“Why did it take you so long?” Austria asks, and she watches as his hands curl into trembling fists.

“I don’t know where I went,” she replies, and he glances around them and sighs. 

“It seems neither you nor your brother had the courtesy to – ”

“Who is he?” Liechtenstein knows she shouldn’t interrupt, but her heart flies into her mouth and she simply has to know the answer.

A few things happen in quick succession – Austria’s brow creases, Hungary leans back and they share a confused look – then she raises a hand to touch one of Liechtenstein’s braids and he says, “What do you mean?”

“My brother. I want to know who my brother is.” 

Austria’s frown deepens.

“Why, Basch, of course.”

\---

It doesn’t take her long to explain the situation to them.

Once Liechtenstein stops talking, Hungary is quick to ask, “Do you remember what happened to you?” at which point Liechtenstein shakes her head and wonders if she’ll be able to get a straight answer from either of them.

Austria nods. “I just remembered that I have to speak to your broth–Basch about…something,” he says vaguely, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Could you explain how to get to your house?”

He leaves, and Hungary gently cups Liechtenstein’s face and kisses her forehead. “I’m so glad you’re back,” she says, and her hands and lips and breath are warm and she smells nice, so Liechtenstein smiles in return.

Hungary chuckles, takes her hand, and squeezes it. “Do forgive Roderich. He’s been rather worried, considering what happened to you and, well, Basch’s…” She trails off, as if she’s remembering something but doesn’t quite know how to say it, and the awkward atmosphere that has settled like a shroud over Liechtenstein’s house threatens to float into this conversation as well.

But Liechtenstein won’t let it. 

“What happened?” 

She’s not going to leave without an explanation, and Hungary looks at her, takes in her steady gaze and even breathing, and seems to understand.

“Well,” she says, “You died.”

\---

It feels like all the wrongs in the world have been righted, but by doing so a new universe of problems has appeared and Liechtenstein doesn’t know what to do. 

When she thinks about it, everything makes sense. If her soul was bobbing in darkness for twenty days following her death, it’s no surprise that she has no memories from that time. If everyone thought she was gone, that explains why all the people she knows acted so strangely upon her resurrection.

And if her recollections are the lives of her people and the history of her country, she supposes it is not unusual that those are the only experiences she remembers.

But it’s unfair, and it’s cruel, and Liechtenstein finally realises why Switzerland can’t bear to look at her and stays up late working to avoid her and can’t sleep for fear of her disappearing and panics when he wakes up and she’s nowhere to be found.

She’s his beloved sister, she died before his eyes, and he loves her.

And she can’t remember why.

\---

They linger for an hour before she decides to head back and Hungary chooses to accompany her.

Liechtenstein wonders if she was close to the other woman. It’s not difficult to picture them sitting together on some cosy sofa, knitting soft satin scarves and swapping anecdotes about the other nations or the latest fashion trends.

Before she can ask, Hungary offers to treat her to lunch in a week, and Liechtenstein supposes she was right.

“That would be lovely,” she says. “And…Miss Hungary?”

Though Hungary laughs good-naturedly, Liechtenstein can’t ignore the slight dip of the other woman’s eyelids and the small sigh that escapes her lips. “Call me Erzsi,” Hungary corrects, her voice soft.

“Erzsi?” The name easily rolls off her tongue, and saying it feels oddly right. 

“Short for Erzsébet,” says Hungary, “which is my personal name.”

“Did we know each other well, Erzsi?” Liechtenstein hopes she won’t upset Hungary by asking, but she needs to know just how many fond memories she’s lost.

And she doesn’t think she’ll get an answer from Switzerland.

There is no humour in Hungary’s smile. “Yes,” she says, her expression wistful, but then she shakes her head and relaxes her shoulders and continues, “But it’s fine. We can start over. All that matters is that you’re back, and you’re safe and sound and as adorable as ever.” Her smile brightens a little, and the corners of her eyes crease with the action. “And I’m sure Basch feels the same way.”

Liechtenstein isn’t sure if she believes that. “Were we close?” she asks, knowing the answer.

Hungary looks away. 

“Very,” she says, and they fall into silence.

\---

He’s shouting.

The door hangs slightly open, and Liechtenstein can hear what is going on inside.

“Don’t you dare,” says Switzerland, his voice low and dangerous, “don’t you fucking dare.”

A hand touches her shoulder and Hungary looks at her in concern, but Liechtenstein’s legs are lead and her arms are granite and she can’t move.

There’s a pause as Austria presumably says something to him, but then Switzerland replies, “You’re not thinking this through. You never think anything through!” and she hears a loud thud from within.

“Have you even – ” Switzerland continues, his voice wavering and shaking but rising in volume, “Have you even thought about what might happen, Roderich? Have you even considered that maybe I don’t need help and Erika doesn’t need help and if you tell her what happened and she gets her memories back she’ll just remember all the – all the pain she went through, and – ”

Liechtenstein thinks she hears Austria call Switzerland’s name, hears a comforting murmur of “It’s going to be okay”, before Switzerland is yelling again and there’s nothing more that Austria can say.

“No, you don’t – you didn’t – ” Switzerland falls silent for a moment. “You weren’t there, you didn’t see – you didn’t see the truck hit her, but I did, and do you know that it snapped her spine and crushed her body and there was so much blood and – and I’m trained in first aid, but I couldn’t do a fucking thing, Roderich, I just stared at her like an idiot and…and I…”

She realises that he’s crying.

Now his voice is halting and she can’t quite hear it, so Liechtenstein steps closer to the door, drawn helplessly to Switzerland’s voice.

“…I ran to her side but she wasn’t responding – so I called the ambulance but then at the hospital she – ” Switzerland takes a long, shuddering breath. “She faded away. She died. I thought we couldn’t die, but she – and maybe if I did something, if only I – ”

And as Austria softly tells Switzerland that it’s not his fault and that his sister has returned and everything will be fine, Hungary takes Liechtenstein’s hand and leads her away into the cooling night.

She wonders if the breeze will wipe the tears from her eyes.

\---

That night, she dreams of being saved.

The rain hasn’t ceased, the sky is still weeping and her legs remain hollow, but when she gazes into her brother’s eyes – eyes that know pain and suffering, eyes of the mountains and the valleys and the lakes, eyes that glimpse the grief of generations and take them in with a stubborn compassion – Liechtenstein thinks the world has grown a little more beautiful.

And when she wakes, there is a smile on her face. 

\---

That day, she goes to him once more.

“I know what happened to me,” she says, and Switzerland freezes where he stands.

“But it’s alright,” Liechtenstein continues, moving closer to him. “I’m fine. Please don't worry.” She takes his hand, and gently teases his fingers apart – when he doesn’t take it away, she slips her hand into his and squeezes it.

He might have avoided her when she returned yesterday, but Liechtenstein isn’t going to let him go now.

“I see,” says Switzerland, his voice quiet and his eyes wide – she smiles at him, and closes her eyes.

“And I’m sorry,” she says. 

Her words are punctuated by a moment of silence.

She hears him take a breath. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Maybe I don’t have the right to say this, but on behalf of the me who died – ” She pauses, and feels Switzerland stiffen beside her. “I ask for your forgiveness. She never meant to leave you.”

His hand is trembling now, and Liechtenstein tightens her grip on it. “And there’s something else I remember,” she continued. “When I was dying and had given up hope, you appeared. You helped me. You saved my life.”

She opens her eyes, and they look at each other. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, and the tears spill helplessly down her face and wet her cheeks. “So please don’t blame yourself for what happened.”

Then Switzerland’s breath quickens and his eyes are too bright, and Liechtenstein pulls him into a hug and rests her forehead on his shoulder. 

They stay like that for a while, swaying slightly, and Switzerland mumbles, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Her smile widens.

“I’m not going anywhere, Brother.”

FIN


End file.
